and always try to say it in my mind when I am feeling a bit down in the dumps about my physical body or my state of mind: “I accept, and I will show up for myself fully”.
It reminds me to accept where I am at physically, mentally, and emotionally today - and show up for myself regardless.
I don't want people to feel flustered seeing them in public, whether it's a breastfeeding mother, a braless vegan or a cold day 'fripple' sighting. I wish I could feel more confident being braless or at least wearing soft cup bras but I rarely do because it feels too promiscuous to be sharing my nipples with strangers.
They are sensitive and kind of face away from each other like they’re not speaking to one another… but they are best mates. They do this because it’s supposed to be the best and easiest direction for a baby to suckle from. Sometimes they get a rash when I go surfing.
in which I cut and binge ate and deprived my body of sleep. I was so unhappy and didn’t realise the damage I was doing to my body. Over the past few years my body has, unfortunately, had to deal with what comes with being sexually harassed, assaulted and raped. These things made me realise how interconnected the body and mind are. If one is not looked after or treated with the care it deserves, the other fails.
After years of not liking, not feeling at home, not living in MY body, and not really knowing how my body should be treated, I am finally feeling at home in my own skin. It’s taken a lot of time to get myself to this point. It’s a daily conscious effort of actively loving my body. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my days where I am not happy with the way I look. I have days where I’m not as happy as I was the day before. But the majority of the time, I love the skin I am in. My body is my home and most of all, my temple.
I can tell he doesn't like it because he often droops.
The growth came with education, time, child birth, breastfeeding and being surrounded by powerful, independent women everyday. My body isn't just a physical matter anymore; it has strength, it has individuality, it has a story.
Most times I forget that my mind needs a healthy body. I take my health and my body for granted. I should look after my body as much as I do my mind. I probably won't.
A dangerous illness that took over my life for a good year and a half. It's incredible how you can let your mind take so much control. It makes you look at your body and see something that is in fact not what you see before you. Although it is very much buried in the past, I have my moments of doubt. With age, however, I have grown to love my body more, nipples and all!
While I (mostly) love them, they come with preconceived judgement and some unwanted attention. My mum recently told me, when I was going out in a top that showed cleavage, that I was looking for trouble. Does that mean that if I was to get assaulted or raped while wearing a slightly revealing top that it is my own fault? Maybe society should teach respect and not to be ashamed of our bodies.
like a sibling it swings from affection to irritation at its lack of perfection.
still off chops on pills and had real horrid guts like I was going to die. I went to the toilet and induced labour. After what seemed like an eternity, I gave birth. For some reasoning I'm sure would have made sense at the time, considering my situation, I decided to visually certify nothing was worth worrying about. In my paranoid state of delusions I stared at peculiar strange worms which just would not flush. No matter how many times I did, they would not flush. I got home and entered the bathroom at 4:00 in the morning, and didn’t come out until 7:45.
Years later after forgetting, I came to the realization that it was saliva I spat in between my legs while straining. And the worms I was staring at were merely the ongoing trickle of the toilet water. If you shit worms have you given birth?
It served its purpose very well in my twenties and early thirties feeding four children for various lengths of time from five to 14 months.
Unfortunately the breast it is attached to was diagnosed with cancer in July 2013. A lump mastectomy has pulled the nipple up and facing a slightly off centre direction. This was followed by five weeks of radiotherapy which caused the pigmentation in the nipple to pale considerably.
in odd positions aiming North-East and North-West, plus they are of no use to me whatsoever. Cheers for nothing, nips.
I wanted to be taller and have bigger boobs and hips. I was often mistaken for being much younger than I was and it drove me crazy. While I still care about my appearance, I now appreciate what my body allows me to do more than what it looks like.
but my relationship with my body is one of intense hate, inside and out. My nipples are indexical of that.
Its surface signifies my low status in the hierarchy of desire, reminding me constantly of my internalized feelings of inferiority.
Internally, my blood ensures that my time here will be shorter than most of my generation, which sometimes terrifies and sometimes comforts.
We are a ridiculous mismatch; I often fantasize finding a more 'physical' identity to occupy my body, and my identity finding a more efficient, smaller body to occupy.
That is why, even in this photo, I heavily mediate my appearance, and continuously try to erase and impose (new) attributes.
The trick, it seems, is to either beat my body into submission or accept it for what it is.
I've not arrived at either position yet.
Nurtured two babies, once bled and sore and now healed and heading south.
I am not a slut and I am not a prude yet the world seems to want to categorise me.
I am neither ugly or 'conventionally hot' and have always been hyper aware of my body...can I make it better? prettier, skinnier.
This doesn't sit well with me or my Feminist ideals.
I try to tell myself that my body is amazing for all it can do, the pleasure it can give and experience and the fact it houses my soul.
Yet I still fight those pesky insecurities that came from Dolly magazines, my mothers shaky relationship with her own body (hidden 'bad' food, diets, exercise binges, calling herself fat) and social conditioning.
I know models don't look like models without airbrushing yet I cant help feel less than perfect.
I know perfect is unattainable and boring yet it lingers, taunts, unrealistic and unattainable.
I try and tell myself I am imperfectly perfect.
I'm learning to be kind to myself and my body.
I have a great butt and I'll shake it if I wanna.
If you judge me for it then that's on you.
I didn't realise this was an extra nipple for an embarrassing amount of time, well in to my mid 20s. I think that says a lot about my attitude to my body.
I have smallish breasts but I've been told my nipples are sensational. So that makes me feel a little less inadequate!
I will never be a gazelle. I don't have time to be a gazelle. I have more important shit to do. Don't get me wrong, my arms could be more toned, my hair could be thick and curly and I could hope to never feel self conscious again. I do feel as though I'm getting better as I get older. Humour helps a lot, listening to my beautiful, intelligent friends complain and worry about the same body hang ups as pudgy plain me provides insight....
We could all stand to be a little more vocal with each other, a little nicer. Compliment a stranger. Send your friend a random text telling them they are wonderful. Eat the bloody bee-sting for crying out loud – THEY ARE DELICIOUS! Call your mum.
so my body has done a good job in carrying my two children. It has also carried me around quite successfully even though it gets regularly abused with too much of everything that is delicious. I used to diet and exercise like a maniac but now I'm lucky to walk 30 minutes each day. I have never much liked how my body looks but the older I get the less of a burning issue it is for me. I regularly forget that I am 62, I mostly feel a young unspecified age. That feeling though is transitory as I do have a lot of aches and pains, a bad knee from running and arthritis in my hands. It is my mind that concerns me most however as dementia runs in my family so while I might not be diligent with exercise I am diligent about my brain. My brain will enable me to be the first person on either side of my family to graduate from university. So really I need to keep my body healthy too so that I can march up and grab that degree with both hands and smile hugely.
mine look like my mum's. Not a huge breast fan – I had boobs at school (not huge) but definitely kept the puppies under wraps then and still do – don't do the cleavage. And have never done a wet t-shirt competition!
(particularly when playing tennis!!), and now that I am over 70 I'm really happy that they don't droop, so to me small breasts are a boon.
passed on from my Great Grandmother. Troublesome and embarrassing at first, it successfully fed both my babies and connects me to the women I love most.
so my nipples are numb and don't look like my old nipples.
As humans, we are always changing, transitioning. For me it is a liberating feeling to be able to publicly expose my nipples without persecution or judgement.
My scars remind me of where I have come but also how much freedom men have over their bodies compared to women. It's been eye opening to see it from both sides.
In fact, my breasts are probably the part of my body I'm most comfortable with. I wish it was more socially acceptable to be topless because I'd love to go around without a shirt (or even a bra) from time to time.
as a male I can be exposed but my female friend must not be disclosed. Inequality and injustice a message we must send, fairness to the hairless to the very end.
I don't know if I'll ever be happy with it, because the standards to which I aspire are unrealistic. But I do know that the time I spend thinking about it is disproportionate to the value that looks should contribute to a person as a whole. Hoping to manage an attitude change.
It's taken me five or six years to love myself just a little bit. A little bit to let me feel comfortable naked. I pierced my nipples to make me feel better about how small they were. I cover myself in tattoos to love my body even if it's just a little bit. My body is my canvas and I can do whatever I want with it.
I have what some people would call 'cookie nipples' and this was something that always bothered me a little because I knew that the aeola part of my boobs was much larger than my friends. This only got worse when I heard my guy friends talking about a girl that one of them had hooked up with and how she was gross because she had 'cookie nipples'. After all of this for a long time I considered getting surgery to have an aeola reduction and actually started saving up for one. A few years later, being a little older and wiser, I've learnt not only to accept my nipples but also to embrace and love them. They're a part of what makes me unique and I'm devestated to think that I ever considered changing them.
Princess Leia and the intrepid jedlice had made there way through the huge forest of the alien planned Bodtooine. Their water was running low and they were far from the pubis aquifer. Suddenly Leia caught her breath when, right through the clearing, proud and firm stood the Nipple of Hope.
As a nudist, I'm generally very happy with every part of my body, whether it be something that's socially acceptable to be seen in public, or any other part that's generally not socially acceptable outside of a nudist setting. :-)
in private and on this forum only bless xx
happy to share on nipplenet.com and with my special friend in all her individual glory xxx
and now I'm really attached and won't give it up without a fight!
It's never going to be perfect and I shouldn't expect it to be. Being out of high school and surrounding myself with amazing people has really changed me into a positive, glass is half full kinda gal :)